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　〃It's　not　my　fault　that　I　have　red　hair；　uncle　Peter。　It's　my　misfortune。〃
　Mr。　Pett　shook　his　head。
　〃Other　people's　misfortune；　too！〃　he　said。
　
　CHAPTER　II
　THE　EXILED　FAN
　
　LONDON　brooded　under　a　grey　sky。　There　had　been　rain　in　the　night；　and　the　trees　were　still　dripping。　Presently；　however；　there　appeared　in　the　laden　haze　a　watery　patch　of　blue：　and　through　this　crevice　in　the　clouds　the　sun；　diffidently　at　first　but　with　gradually　increasing　confidence；　peeped　down　on　the　fashionable　and　exclusive　turf　of　Grosvenor　Square。　Stealing　across　the　square；　its　rays　reached　the　massive　stone　walls　of　Drexdale　House；　until　recently　the　London　residence　of　the　earl　of　that　name；　then；　passing　through　the　window　of　the　breakfast…room；　played　lightly　on　the　partially　bald　head　of　Mr。　Bingley　Crocker；　late　of　New　York　in　the　United　States　of　America；　as　he　bent　over　his　morning　paper。　Mrs。　Bingley　Crocker；　busy　across　the　table　reading　her　mail；　the　rays　did　not　touch。　Had　they　done　so；　she　would　have　rung　for　Bayliss；　the　butler；　to　e　and　lower　the　shade；　for　she　endured　liberties　neither　from　Man　nor　from　Nature。
　Mr。　Crocker　was　about　fifty　years　of　age；　clean…shaven　and　of　a　fortable　stoutness。　He　was　frowning　as　he　read。　His　smooth；　good…humoured　face　wore　an　expression　which　might　have　been　disgust；　perplexity；　or　a　blend　of　both。　His　wife；　on　the　other　hand；　was　looking　happy。　She　extracted　the　substance　from　her　correspondence　with　swift　glances　of　her　pelling　eyes；　just　as　she　would　have　extracted　guilty　secrets　from　Bingley；　if　he　had　had　any。　This　was　a　woman　who；　like　her　sister　Nesta；　had　been　able　all　her　life　to　acplish　more　with　a　glance　than　other　women　with　recrimination　and　threat。　It　had　been　a　popular　belief　among　his　friends　that　her　late　husband；　the　well…known　Pittsburg　millionaire　G。　G。　van　Brunt；　had　been　in　the　habit　of　automatically　confessing　all　if　he　merely　caught　the　eye　of　her　photograph　on　his　dressing　table。
　From　the　growing　pile　of　opened　envelopes　Mrs。　Crocker　looked　up；　a　smile　softening　the　firm　line　of　her　lips。
　〃A　card　from　Lady　Corstorphine；　Bingley；　for　her　at…home　on　the　twenty…ninth。〃
　Mr。　Crocker；　still　absorbed；　snorted　absently。
　〃One　of　the　most　exclusive　hostesses　in　England。　。　。　。　She　has　influence　with　the　right　sort　of　people。　Her　brother；　the　Duke　of　Devizes；　is　the　Premier's　oldest　friend。〃
　〃Uh？〃
　〃The　Duchess　of　Axminster　has　written　to　ask　me　to　look　after　a　stall　at　her　bazaar　for　the　Indigent　Daughters　of　the　Clergy。〃
　〃Huh？〃
　〃Bingley！　You　aren't　listening。　What　is　that　you　are　reading？〃
　Mr。　Crocker　tore　himself　from　the　paper。
　〃This？　Oh；　I　was　looking　at　a　report　of　that　cricket　game　you　made　me　go　and　see　yesterday。〃
　〃Oh？　I　am　glad　you　have　begun　to　take　an　interest　in　cricket。　It　is　simply　a　social　necessity　in　England。　Why　you　ever　made　such　a　fuss　about　taking　it　up；　I　can't　think。　You　used　to　be　so　fond　of　watching　baseball　and　cricket　is　just　the　same　thing。〃
　A　close　observer　would　have　marked　a　deepening　of　the　look　of　pain　on　Mr。　Crocker's　face。　Women　say　this　sort　of　thing　carelessly；　with　no　wish　to　wound：　but　that　makes　it　none　the　less　hard　to　bear。
　From　the　hall　outside　came　faintly　the　sound　of　the　telephone；　then　the　measured　tones　of　Bayliss　answering　it。　Mr。　Crocker　returned　to　his　paper。
　Bayliss　entered。
　〃Lady　Corstorphine　desires　to　speak　to　you　on　the　telephone；　madam。〃
　Half…way　to　the　door　Mrs。　Crocker　paused；　as　if　recalling　something　that　had　slipped　her　memory。
　〃Is　Mr。　James　getting　up；　Bayliss？〃
　〃I　believe　not；　madam。　I　am　informed　by　one　of　the　house…maids　who　passed　his　door　a　short　time　back　that　there　were　no　sounds。〃
　Mrs。　Crocker　left　the　room。　Bayliss；　preparing　to　follow　her　example；　was　arrested　by　an　exclamation　from　the　table。
　〃Say！〃
　His　master's　voice。
　〃Say；　Bayliss；　e　here　a　minute。　Want　to　ask　you　something。〃
　The　butler　approached　the　table。　It　seemed　to　him　that　his　employer　was　not　looking　quite　himself　this　morning。　There　was　something　a　trifle　wild；　a　little　haggard；　about　his　expression。　He　had　remarked　on　it　earlier　in　the　morning　in　the　Servants'　Hall。
　As　a　matter　of　fact；　Mr。　Crocker's　ailment　was　a　perfectly　simple　one。　He　was　suffering　from　one　of　those　acute　spasms　of　home…sickness；　which　invariably　racked　him　in　the　earlier　Summer　months。　Ever　since　his　marriage　five　years　previously　and　his　simultaneous　removal　from　his　native　land　he　had　been　a　chronic　victim　to　the　plaint。　The　symptoms　grew　less　acute　in　Winter　and　Spring；　but　from　May　onward　he　suffered　severely。
　Poets　have　dealt　feelingly　with　the　emotions　of　practically　every　variety　except　one。　They　have　sung　of　Ruth；　of　Israel　in　bondage；　of　slaves　pining　for　their　native　Africa；　and　of　the　miner's　dream　of　home。　But　the　sorrows　of　the　baseball　bug；　pelled　by　fate　to　live　three　thousand　miles　away　from　the　Polo　Grounds；　have　been　neglected　in　song。　Bingley　Crocker　was　such　a　one；　and　in　Summer　his　agonies　were　awful。　He　pined　away　in　a　country　where　they　said　〃Well　played；　sir！〃　when　they　mean　〃'at…a…boy！〃
　〃Bayliss；　do　you　play　cricket？〃
　〃I　am　a　little　past　the　age；　sir。　In　my　younger　days　。　。　。〃
　〃Do　you　understand　it？〃
　〃Yes；　sir。　I　frequently　spend　an　afternoon　at　Lord's　or　the　Oval　when　there　is　a　good　match。〃
　Many　who　enjoyed　a　merely　casual　acquaintance　with　the　butler　would　have　looked　on　this　as　an　astonishingly　unexpected　revelation　of　humanity　in　Bayliss；　but　Mr。　Crocker　was　not　surprised。　To　him；　from　the　very　beginning；　Bayliss　had　been　a　man　and　a　brother　who　was　always　willing　to　suspend　his　duties　in　order　to　answer　questions　dealing　with　the　thousand　and　one　problems　which　the　social　life　of　England　presented。　Mr。　Crocker's　mind　had　adjusted　itself　with　difficulty　to　the　niceties　of　class　distinction：　and；　while　he　had　cured　himself　of　his　early　tendency　to　address　the　butler　as　〃Bill；〃　he　never　failed　to　consult　him　as　man　to　man　in　his　moments　of　perplexity。　Bayliss　was　always　eager　to　be　of　assistance。　He　liked　Mr。　Crocker。　True；　his　manner　might　have　struck　a　more　sensitive　man　than　his　employer　as　a　shade　too　closely　resembling　that　of　an　indulgent　father　towards　a　son　who　was　not　quite　right　in　the　head：　but　it　had　genuine　affection　in　it。
　Mr。　Crocker　picked　up　his　paper　and　folded　it　back　at　the　sporting　page；　pointing　with　a　stubby　forefinger。
　〃Well；　what　does　all　this　mean？　I've　kept　out　of　watching　cricket　since　I　landed　in　England；　but　yesterday　they　got　the　poison　needle　to　work　and　took　me　off　to　see　Surrey　play　Kent　at　that　place　Lord's　where　you　say　you　go　sometimes。〃
　〃I　was　there　yesterday；　sir。　A　very　exciting　game。〃
　〃Exciting？　How　do　you　make　that　out？　I　sat　in　the　bleachers　all　afternoon；　waiting　for　something　to　break　loose。　Doesn't　anything　ever　happen　at　cricket？〃
　The　butler　winced　a　little；　but　managed　to　smile　a　tolerant　smile。　This　man；　he　reflected；　was　but　an　American　and　as　such　more　to　be　pitied　than　censured。　He　endeavoured　to　explain。
　〃It　was　a　sticky　wicket　yesterday；　sir；　owing　to　the　rain。〃
　〃Eh？〃
　〃The　wicket　was　sticky；　sir。〃
　〃e　again。〃
　〃I　mean　that　the　reason　why　the　game　yesterday　struck　you　as　slow　was　that　the　wicketI　should　say　the　turfwas　stickythat　is　to　say　wet。　Sticky　is　the　technical　term；　sir。　When　the　wicket　is　sticky；　the　batsmen　are　obliged　to　exercise　a　great　deal　of　caution；　as　the　stickiness　of　the　wicket　enables　the　bowlers　to　make　the　ball　turn　more　sharply　in　either　direction　as　it　strikes　the　turf　than　when　the　wicket　is　not　sticky。〃
　〃That's　it；　is　it？〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　〃Thanks　for　telling　me。〃
　〃Not　at　all；　sir。〃
　Mr。　Crocker　pointed　to　the　paper。
　〃Well；　now；　this　seems　to　be　the　box…score　of　the　game　we　saw　yesterday。　If　you　can　make　sense　out　of　that；　go　to　it。〃
　The　passage　on　which　his　finger　rested　was　headed　〃Final　Score；〃　and　ran　as　follows：
　　　　　　　　　　　　SURREY
　　　　　　　　　First　Innings
　Hayward；　c　Wooley；　b　Carr　。。。。。。。　67　Hobbs；　run　out　。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。　0　Hayes；　st　Huish；　b　Fielder　。。。。。。　12　Ducat；　b　Fielder　。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。　33　Harrison；　not　out　。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。　11　Sandham；　not　out　。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。　6　Extras　。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。　10
　Tota